Something’s Wrong

We were raised at Church. We were raised by Church. We love Church the way someone loves their parents. We love it in a way we can’t get away from, not that we’ve tried that hard. We love Church when it comforts us. We love Church when it tells us things we don’t want to hear. We love it when we see the lessons it taught us bubbling up spontaneously in our actions or thoughts. We love it even when we realize, like we realize about our parents, that church is so terribly imperfect. For all the wealth of wisdom and goodness it has imparted to us in our upbringing, we realize that Church can be the victim of weakness, self-deception and pervasive lost-ness. We love Church because we know without it we wouldn’t be ourselves and we’d never become our fullest selves if we left it behind.

That you understand the above is very important.

It’s important so that you know we’re not giving up on Church.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s start again.

Imagine a pastor. She’s smart. He’s compassionate. They take their work at Church seriously. They care about their congregants and care about them enough to tell them that they shouldn’t settle for an hour of church once a week. For a week long mission trip once a decade. Once a year even. This pastor, these pastors invite their congregants to a fuller picture of Christian living and they call it “the Kingdom of God.”

Now, imagine a congregant. A man. A woman. A man and a woman and their children; a Christian family. They sit in their church on Sunday and hear this kind of pastor. They’re moved. They want the abundant life these pastors say the Kingdom has to offer. They want it for their little ones. But when they look at their life spread out on a calendar, there’s so little room in the in-betweens. They have to support their family all on their own. Financially. Relationally. Spiritually. And there’s just no more time to do the above-and-beyond church-type stuff. There’s no extra energy. We’re already stretched too thin. We just can’t add anything else.

No matter how abundant it sounds, it’s just not practical.

Still, both of our imagined Christians, Pastor and Congregant alike, agree that all this Kingdom of God stuff should be happening out there in the world. The Christian kind of families say to their Pastors, “I’ve got this extra money from my job in the World. I’ll set it aside and, here, you take it and you go do that Kingdom stuff. And I believe in you. And I’ll show up when I can. I’ll give you that and, don’t worry, you can still have our Sunday morning and maybe a weeknight and a Saturday here and there.”

And let’s not be quick to judge those Congregant folks. They really are giving everything that’s left. They’ll give until they’re burnt out, because they trust us Pastor types and because their everyday life leaves them so close to burnt out already.

Also, let’s not be quick to judge those passionate Pastor folks. They really love and believe in their Kingdom work. They work many more hours than they’re paid for. They’ll work until they’re burnt out, because they care for us Congregant types.


Here’s our problem: This kind of church life is not abundant life, for pastors or for congregants. And if we know one thing, we know that life in the Kingdom is abundant life.

Instead, we’ve been stock-piling straw.

Stock-piling straw so that we can make bricks.

Making bricks so that there can be “progress.”

And yet, muffled to silence by all the straw and drowned out by the cacophony of brick-making, is a cry coming up from God’s people. A cry for liberation. A cry for the abundance of something weightier than straw.

There are those who have neither straw nor bricks who are also crying out for liberation. Crying out for abundance.

And sadly, they’d be elated just to get some straw.

Funny thing about insulation like straw: it muffles sound in both directions. Muffles cries from beneath the straw. Muffles cries from beyond the straw.

And all this straw-piling and brick-making, it’s a way to make a living, but it isn’t much of a life. St. Augustine called it “this living death.”


So, if Church life these days isn’t abundant life, then we’re worried that Kingdom life and Church life have parted ways.

Not just here and there, but systematically.

And what do we call this systematic parting-of-ways? Which way is church life on these days? Well, we’re going to call it “Imperial life.” As in, “Life in the Empire.”

We think our every-day American life is Imperial life and it’s a kind of living death.

We think the conventional American church, for the most part, has systematically capitulated to Imperial life.

We think that, with some faith, courage, imagination and lots of grace, we can trade Imperial life in the Kingdom of Man back for Abundant life in the Kingdom of God.

In other words, we’re ready for empire rehab and, like addicts, our first step is admitting we’re helpless against Imperial life on our own. We need help.

And, if you’re reading this, we’re asking for your help.

Great, right?

Except, we don’t exactly have any idea what that means.

So, instead of coming to you with a list of what it is we think we need, we’re going to let you in on what’s in our hearts and minds. Then, if the Holy Spirit works like we think the Holy Spirit works, we hope you’ll offer us whatever it is God gives you to share. If it’s as much as, “Thanks for sharing with us!” that’s completely awesome.

Either way, that’s what the comments feature is for. Make liberal use.

Godspeed.